


Intimità

by miocaro (orphan_account)



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-18 23:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14224641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/miocaro
Summary: Oliver comes to stay at the Perlman's villa for a second year.





	Intimità

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on here, sorry if it's bad! I just really really really really love Oliver and Elio too much not to write anything, enjoy :)

"It's so good to see you, _come stai_? " I hear faintly coming from downstairs. Seeing as family and friends come and go from our villa, I assumed it was one of them. Maybe, a dinner drudgery guest had reappeared that my mother had liked, it was rare for one to come back. My tape is still whirring away, the melodious piano fills the fiery summer air. It's been a year since we've last visited for the summer, my room had been untouched by time it still had all my belongings just how I'd left them. The occasional breeze would pass by, I would shudder but it was a feigned emotion. I'm engulfed by each note and word passing through me. Paul Celan and Bach, what a beautiful combination. I've read many if not hundreds of pieces of poetry and all but one had struck me with a sense of nostalgia. Yes, just hearing the name of it reminds me of that summer day with Chiara and... do I dare think his name? No, leave it out of your mind, _idiota_.

Your Hand Full of Hours, it reminds me of you, _mio caro_. My eyes scan the words, I used to not understand these stanzas completely. Now I know, I've grown since then but honestly: does understanding love make you mature? I still feel as if I'm a child after him, it's been a year but nothing has changed. The villa is still being visited everyday by anyone who seems to be interested. Mafalda, Manfredi, and Anchise still bickering back and forth amongst themselves. One certain detail has changed, my father and mother did not choose a summer student. I'm not sure if it was because of me, but I'm sure it was. They've overreacted, someone has gone a year without seeing this breathtaking abode.

There's commotion downstairs, but I feel too sluggish to move from my spot. I'm sure I'm going to here my name being called from the bottom floor soon, if not it would be strange. I continue my small activity, basking in the nature powered gusts moving through the open French window. I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, perfect timing I've been meaning to ask Mafalda for some more _acqua e frutti_. The door swings open, I'm sure she's just going to take my empty bowl. I turn my head towards the doorway, sliding my headphones off.

" _Ciao_." A deep, velvety voice greets me. Those clear blue skies shimmer in the sunlight reflecting off a pane of the lazily swung open French window. Billowy: check, frayed espadrilles: check, sunglasses that just hang off his shirt as an accessory: check. All of him is there, as if he'd only been away for an hour. I feel the urge to just jump out of bed and kiss him as hard as I could. I hold myself back, I can't do that to him even if he wanted, he's married now. The air is thickened with the past and present. We know what had happened last year, but neither of us could speak upon it. The silence is deafening, what I wouldn't do if we weren't held back.

" _Ciao_." I gather my belongings and move to the room beside his, seeing as he'll be staying here. I don't help him move his large duffel bags, I allow him to carry them by himself. He can't say anything about it either, he's entitled to be sorry. Just hearing his name this past year made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, seeing him almost murdered me. I'm supposed to hate him, but part of me wants him to slip into my bed with me right now and do things under the covers that no one would know about. I hear him exhale loudly as he falls back onto the bed, he's really not going to speak to me.

" _There's an army on the dance floor, it's a fashion with a gun my love..._ " He sings, tapping the tips of his shoes to the beat. That song, is he trying to lure me into his room? I don't bite the bait, though that song always reminds me of him. The way he danced to that, it was like no one else was there and it was him by himself. I loved seeing him be himself without Chiara grinding up against him.

There's no denying that this wasn't a nice tune.

" _In a room without a door, a kiss is not enough in,_ " He continues, I hum along softly. I start to sway and tap my fingers to the beat against my book.

" _Love my way, it's a new road!_ " I give in to temptation and sing along with him. He chuckles and a grin appears on my face. It was a small interaction, but our first nice exchange. I hear his espadrilles making its way to me, a chill runs through me. He's going to speak to me face to face.

The minute he enters my room, I look away. He sighs, not coming any further to me.

"I'm sorry, was that a mistake?" He asks, my eyes are focused upon a tree outside. It's swaying to the random huge bursts of wind that makes its way throughout the forest line.

"I'm not ready to have a conversation and to see you during it." I say, the harshness in my voice does not falter. He gives a soft "all right" and goes back into his room. I look into his room through the crack in the door between us. I want to see his emotions, but not have him stare back. I quickly move back to my bed as he starts to walk to the door. I hear him slump down in front of it.

"Is this okay? I need to speak to you, Elio. I just need to hear your voice once more." I get up from the bed, springs creaking as I move. My body goes against the weathered wood the door had been crafted from.

"This is fine, I like it." There's a soft shakiness to my voice, hoping he won't notice it. This mean of communication is quite nice, I might never want to stop doing this.

"Are we going to keep upon the surface or dive deeper?" He asks. I'm not sure if this would be the right time. I think I would need to see his face for that.

"Not right now, we'll talk about it later." I grin, I had said it: _Later!_ He deserves that at least. A chuckles erupts from the other side, I join in as well.

"Well, later it is then. How have you been?" Horrible without you, I wanted to say.

"Really, all has been well. Marzia and I have become friends." I don't know why I had to include that detail, maybe he wouldn't notice what I was implying.

"That's nice to hear. I've travelled all over and published my book." I've read his book more than ten times. He had sent one to us with a quote in it: To the Perlmans, thank you for the best summer I've had. I hope to see you later! Love dearly, Oliver.

How I wished that had said Elio instead, so I had faith he'd remembered.

"I've missed you... Oliver." He did, he really did.

"I've missed you too, Elio." I grin, leaning my head back against the hard surface. Maybe staying away from the elephant in the room isn't so bad after all. It saves both our feelings.

The dinner bell sounds throughout the house, a chill runs through me. I'm going to have to be seated next to him for the next hour.

"I'm quite tired from the plane ride, go on and tell your parents and Mafalda I'm sorry I can't make it to dinner." He says, getting up from the door. I feel like he's doing this for me, but also telling the truth. Either way I don't have to see him during dinner.

" _D'accord_ , okay." I respond, making my way to the bathroom door and looking at him passed out in the bed, he was definitely telling the truth.

Making my way down the spiral staircase, I travel with a slight more excitement than I had hoped. My mother had seen this and smiled. She knows everything, I'm sure she had known from the start, didn't she?

" _Dove è la muvi star?_ " She asks, looking up at the empty steps behind me.

"He's sleeping and apologized for missing dinner." I saunter with her to the table outside which is already set with food.

Mafalda and mother have a small conversation about taking Oliver's plate away. I know what my parents are going to press me about in the upcoming ten seconds, no better time to prepare.

"So Elio, how has Oliver settled? Well, I suppose?" My father asks, adjusting himself closer to the table.

"Well, I hope." Though we haven't spoken about a topic as pressing as this in quite sometime, it feels as if I need it to get off my chest. I haven't had the chance to talk to Marzia about this quite yet. It's not as if I'm depleting her of Elio's emotions and inquiries, she has received a lot of that since we've arrived.

"You hope, why is that?" My mother picks up and places a cut of the trout Anchise had caught in the river just a few hours prior. I hesitate to answer, this is one of the first times I've spoken of my feelings this summer. I don't want to delve deeper into what needs to be said, I'll skim the surface. Ignoring my urge to speak up about the anger but also happiness by Oliver being here, I answer briefly.

" _Boh_." I shrug my shoulders and slide a piece of the entrèe onto my plate. She sighs and proceeds to pick at her dish.

The dinner is full of conversations about the latest noteworthy happenings in my father and mother's world. I'm quite distant the entire meal, they don't even seem to notice I haven't said a word since my last comment.

Mafalda brings out chocolate cake to finish off the evening. I remember quite vibrantly the instance where blood spilled out of my nose as I was eating this dessert. It was because of his smooth foot gently caressing mine that made me react. When I look to the left, I don't see him anything but a phantom of a pleasant memory that repeats over and over in my thoughts to remind me of how we were. It's saddening to think about the past, it was only a year ago but a year changes so much of everything. He's a wedded man, and he's wedded to a woman. Usually those things don't matter to me, but if it's him it matters the world.

"I'm tired, I think I'll go to bed," I get up and kiss both my parents' head, " _buonanotte, ti amo_."

Quickly, I speed up the spiral staircase to my—currently Oliver's—bedroom. I push the door open slowly, just enough for my slender body could slip though and close it softly for not even a creak would escape. His slow, deep breaths fill the silence of the room. If only I could fall asleep with him by my side with his breaths being the soundtrack of my lullabies.

Before sleeping, I change into my pajamas—leaving only my boxers on. It's uncomfortable to sleep sometimes in this type of temperature. I twist and turn in my sheets, finding the heat unbearable. If I'm completely quiet, I could smoke on to-die-for: the balcony over looking the villa.

Grabbing a pack of Gauloises (not forgetting a lighter) and redressing, I crept through his room to get to the exit.

"Elio," I turn around to face him, his figure illuminated by the moonlight. "where are you going? You've snuck through my room multiple times." I don't move, I'm frozen in his stare.

"I'm sorry, have I woken you because of it?" I ask, looking away from him. I can't even see his eyes, but I'm still avoiding the contact.

"No, I haven't been able to sleep. To be honest, I was far too tired to make my way here yesterday so I got rest at a local motel. I didn't want to burden you further by being present at that dinner so I tried my best to rest." He cares, he does. I look to him and don't break the gaze. I want to see him, I want to see his loving clear blue skies once more.

"I was just about to smoke at to-die-for. Would you like to join me?" I would cross my fingers and hope that he remembers to-die-for. If he doesn't, all hope would be lost and it would seem as if he didn't remember any of last summer. Maybe it's my childish tendencies kicking in, but I could still describe how the air smelt the night we made love for the first time. It was a neoteric aroma of us and the raw scent of an Italian countryside that made it intoxicating.

"Of course." He gets up out of bed and joins me. My parents would still be downstairs, either helping Mafalda clean or just watching TV. We'd have to keep a low profile in order to get away alone. As we come down, there's no Anella or Pro in sight. We rush out of the house and get to the old belfry.

It's more beautiful with him than when I had come here by myself yesterday. I bring out the pack and hit it on the back of my hand before opening it. Removing one from the packaging, I place it on the edge of my lips. He snags one and wraps his lips around it. I get my lighter and light my own cigarette before his. He bends down slightly, just to meet my hands, for me to light his. Our faces are the closest they could ever be, I wish this wasn't my only opportunity to feel the warm radiating off his olive skin. After lighting his, I back away and stand the farthest away from him. The balcony is small, it's hard to get away from him. I'm not very sure why I'm trying to get away in the first place. I looked him in his face in the bedroom, why not now?

"Can we talk now?" He takes a drag and slowly blows out the smoke that soon dissipates into the air. He comes next to me and leans onto the railing with his elbows.

"No, it's not later yet." I take a hurried puff and blow it out. Just standing next to him is piling stress onto my already clogged mind. He chuckles and looks up at the sky.

"When will it become later?" I look over at all the trees lining the garden. Tiny white dots painted the sky as if some had splattered by accident. When had the night become so breathtaking. Was it him? Did he transform it somehow by giving mother nature some of his own beauty? Taking another puff, I tap the stick to ash it onto the ground below. I breathe out the cloud, it fogs my vision for a quick three seconds in which it then disappears.

"When it feels right?" I wanted that to come out as a confident conformation, instead it was an unanswerable question.

"When it feels right." He mimics and grins wryly. It felt good hearing him do that again. I could only hope that when it does feel right, it goes well. Going this entire summer without him is like living an eternity without sunlight. I missed you too much to bear, _mio caro_.


End file.
